What Type of Cross-Co Runner Are You?

There is never such a silence that falls upon a school field like the moments before cross country. Hundreds of students stand in an uneasy stillness, suddenly fascinated by their shoelaces, the weather, or literally anything that might delay what is about to happen. The teachers are far too cheerful. The course looks far too long. Yet, deep down, everyone is asking the same question: how bad can this really be?

The answer, of course, depends on what type of ‘runner’ you are.

The One Who Takes It Far Too Seriously:

This runner treats cross country like the Olympics have come early and exclusively for them. They arrive prepared, focused and slightly intimidating. While everyone else is trying to work out if mud is legally avoidable, they are analysing the course like it is a military operation. When the race starts, they vanish. Not just running but properly running, which feels unnecessary and slighty aggressive. Arms pumping, stride perfect and expression intense. They do not slow down, they do not speak and they certainly do not walk because that would be, quite frankly, unacceptable. By the time everyone else is halfway round and reconsidering all life choices, they are already finished and standing there like they have simply popped out for some fresh air. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

The ‘We’ll Just Jog Together’ Group:

This group begins with optimism. A plan is formed. They will jog at a steady pace around the golf course, stay together and support each other like a wholesome fitness advert.

This lasts about three minutes.

Very quickly, the pace drops, the group spreads out and conversations turn into short, desperate sentences. Someone inevitably suggests walking “just for a bit”, which is agreed upon instantly with the kind of unity rarely seen in group decisions. From then on, it becomes less of a run and more a stroll that occasionally remembers it is meant to be exercise. Bonus points are added if you still run past everybody at the cricket pavilion though!

The Determined Walker:

Some people fear cross country. This person has accepted it and chosen peace. From the very beginning, they walk. Not reluctantly, not secretly but confidently. There is no attempt to pretend otherwise. They are not running and everyone, including them, knows it. Occasionally, a teacher will suggest they “pick it up a bit”, which results in a brief, dramatic jog that lasts just long enough to show willingness before immediately returning to walking once out of range. A strong, consistent strategy.

The Last Minute Hero:

For most of the race, this runner is practically invisible. Not fast, not slow, just existing somewhere in the middle, doing the absolute minimum just to keep moving forward. Then, the finish line appears and suddenly it is time for their moment.

Out of nowhere, they sprint.

Not a sensible increase in speed but a full, dramatic, everything-left-to-give sprint as if the entire race has been leading up to this exact five seconds. At this point, you would expect medals to be handed out, or at least something to the same effect to warrant such a performance. Teachers may nod in approval while spectators are briefly impressed, yet the true betrayal comes from the eyes of your supposed ‘friend’ who helped you all this way just to get beat. Everyone is left wondering the same thing. If this was always an option, why did we leave it until the final ten metres to display such athletic competence?

In the end, whether you paced it perfectly or discovered your athletic identity 20 metres from the end, every cross-co runner has their moment. Some just choose to save the save all the drama for the final scene because why suffer consistently when you can be inexplicably heroic at the end, right?